


A Study In Stanford

by Violetlyvanilla



Category: Sherlock - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha Dean, Bondage, Case Fic, Castiel is Sherlock, Dean is Watson, Detective Castiel, Doctor Dean, Humour, M/M, Omega Castiel, Omegaverse, Plot Twist, Plot Twists, Sub Dean, alternative universe, destiel sherlock crossover, dom Cas, romance tropes, switch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-10-05 12:42:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20489057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violetlyvanilla/pseuds/Violetlyvanilla
Summary: Former Marine Dean is on medical retirement and living in Stanford to keep an eye on his brother Sam. In search of cheap rent and diversion, Dean meets Castiel - a PhD researcher in Criminology who half-heartedly runs a bookshop. Besides their common interests in bondage zines, houseplants and omegaverse romances, Dean is shocked to discover that Castiel is a man with an unique intellect. Dean is pretty sure an alpha and an omega can share a room and adventures in detective-ing without any complications, right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moonweaver30](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonweaver30/gifts).

> This is my ficfacer fic for Moonweaver30 who requested a Sherlock/Destiel crossover. Thank you so much, I never would have thought to write a Destiel Sherlock verse fic with A/B/O thrown in, it is so much fun!
> 
> Will post as a WIP to be completed (or at least up to 10K in word length) by the end of September.

Dean looked down at his phone, he had the right address. The apartment of Mr Castiel Novak was clearly stated as number 221B Baker Street, California. This was a bookstore. After going in and checking out the selection of city guidebooks, an extensive collection of beekeeper's manuals and even ducking his head into the very tastefully collated backroom which hosted an exquisite collection of omega-centric bondage titles, Dean found no trace of Castiel. He was just about to call his brother Sam and confirm that the apartment hunt was a bust (but he had found himself a new favourite bookshop) when a man came down the stairs and began whipping the bookstore clerk. The young man, with a name tag that proclaimed him Alfie, yelped and ducked behind the counter. Dean charged up to the attacker and grabbed him by the forearm. The guy was surprisingly strong, though he was actually a fraction shorter than Dean and he definitely smelt like an omega. Even with Dean's combat training and his alpha strength, the man twisted his arm around like it was a living serpent, somehow wrapped his thumb and index finger around Dean's wrist and applied a sharp pinch to his pressure point. Dean frowned, pulled his now numbed hand free and raised his leg to give a forceful kick. Which was blocked and redirected, so that Dean's knee gave way and he was either going to aggravate his injury or go tumbling down to the ground. Dean chose neither option, lifting his fist for a vicious blow to the man's temple. When that failed, for the assailant pivoted with ballerina like grace, he found his arms locked into vice like grips and pinned above his head, his back against the wall, a potted fern had rattled onto the floor. The omega was panting into his face, there was a distinct impression of glimmering blue and pink and vanilla hazed breath of a buttery richness. Dean would have gone weak at the knees had this been anything but a fight at the smell alone. As it was, he was out of options bar one, so Dean bent his neck and knocked his head forward for a headbutt but rather than making contact with a hard skull, he got a forehead of solid warm chest and more of that intoxicating scent. There were legs, firmly wrapped around his waist and Alfie was poking his head out and glaring at him wide eyed. 

"That's the creep that's been casing the place out!" Alfie yelled. "I messaged you like ten minutes ago!" 

"He's not a creep," said the omega who had his legs around Dean's waist and his hands on Deans wrists, both of which were loosening with slow reluctance. "He's a customer though I know it can be hard to tell the difference."

"How am I the bad guy?" Dean let out a gasp. "He was whipping you!" 

"Probably for a good reason," Alfie said brightly, then he blushed and turned to the blue eyed man. "Why were you whipping me?" 

The man, presumably Castiel Novak, walked up to Alfie and stared at him. "You went left."

Alfie turned his eyes worshipfully upon Castiel, "I did?" 

"I let you see the whip coming on your right so you ran to the left, and that meant you stretched out your t-shirt over here and got scuff marks there," Castiel was touching Alfie's t-shirt hem. Dean was sure he could see the guy trembling when Castiel took out his phone and snapped a quick photo of Alfie's marked chest. "The markings are consistent with those found on the clothing of the victim, I'll be in my office sending an email. Please excuse me." 

Alfie deflated when Castiel walked away, climbing the black iron spiral stair case tucked away in a corner of the shop with a red velvet rope upon which hung the sign 'Private Property - do not tread beyond this point'. 

Dean blinked, he scratched his head, looked at his phone again, stared at the entrance to the back room, looked up the spiral stairs, blinked at Alfie who blinked back owlishly, cursed, walked to the front door, spun on his heels, ran up to the spiral stair case, put his hands on the metal railing and jumped over the rope. He stomped up the metal stairs and ignored a second sign that proclaimed 'Entry Forbidden' and charged up to the surprised looking blue eyed man. 

"My name is Dean Winchester, I'm looking for an apartment share."

"Hello Dean, the apartment is no longer available," Castiel said, hands flying over the keyboard of his laptop. "I believe I already excused myself." 

Dean folded his arms. Something about the omega made him quietly furious.

"What do you mean it’s unavailable, it’s still listed here on the campus Facebook group as ‘vacant’,” Dean waved his cellphone to illustrate his point. 

Castiel ignored him, leaning down to type something into his computer after gazing into a microscope. 

“I’m not leaving until you give me a good reason as to why the apartment’s not available,” Dean crossed his arms. 

There was a hefty sigh, then Castiel closed the lid on his laptop and stood up. The grow lights cast a blue white glow to his features. 

“There are many reasons, the primary one is a matter of privacy which I will not disclose to you. I am certain of the kind of alpha you are and I do not wish for your company.” 

Dean was furious. “The kind of alpha I am? I haven’t told you anything about me. You can’t know anything about me which isn’t an alpha stereotype.” 

“You are ex-military, retired because of an injury,” Castiel said. 

“Well, that’s easy enough to guess,” Dean looked pointedly at his own off centre gait. “How’d you know I was with the army?” 

“Marines,” Castiel said smoothly. “Judging by the tanlines, their fatigues are a fraction looser at the neck.” 

“Only slightly impressive,” Dean said. “So what are you some sort of detective?” 

“I’m a scientist, undertaking a PhD,” Castiel replied. “And of course an alpha who still lives with his brother and who doesn’t believe in true mates, with a pension, a muscle car and no direction in life whatsoever is exactly the sort of person I want to share my rather small apartment with?” 

Now Dean was rattled. He looked around. “Is uh, is Sammy here? Did he put you up to this? Have you been spying on me?” 

“Your father was an alocholic, your mother died when you were young. You were brought up by someone else, a woman good with a needle but colour blind.” 

Dean was reeling, he fumbled for a chair and sat down. It was really very hot in California and though he had spent some years in desert climates, September was still stiflingly humid. This Castiel had him dizzy and disorientated. The scuffle had made his heart race and he really needed a drink. 

To his surprise Castiel rose from the table and went to a sink and filled a glass. The cool water was sweet to the taste. 

“That’s real cutting man,” Dean said after he had downed the whole cup. “Sam told you all that?” 

“I don’t know Sam, who is presumably your brother,” Castiel said, his face blank. “Everything I just told you I deduced from your physical representation.”

At Dean’s soft snort of derision, Castiel spoke at length. “You live with your brother judging by the fact that there is a stain on your jeans from a laundry marker. Why would adult men buy the same jeans and yet not want to wear them swapped around, if they were not two male siblings living together. Your lack of belief in true mates I deduced when I saw you smirk at the bookshelves in the Soulmate Romance section. You are probably not very well off if you are looking for an apartment to share. There’s grease under your nails but no slope in your neck from ducking under cars, so either you are a mechanic or you maintain a vintage car, one of those masculine types judging by the way you dress. When you waved your phone at me I could see your thumb unlock it and the job listings page was what you were browsing. I saw the tattoo on your chest, a pentagram. Judging by the way it stretched you got it way too young, so a negligent parent. Only one because an alpha of your age who still lives with a younger alpha sibling must be parentified in some manner. So I guessed the loss of your mother at a young age. I doubt your father is around to support you because if you have returned from service at this age and already carry yourself like an officer, you would have dropped out to enlist. The way you react to desire, jaw locked, nostrils flaring, fists clenched tell me you think giving in to hedonism is a weakness. So a father with an addiction, drugs is less common than alcohol. I think you grew up with an aunt, who is good at sewing looking at the way your jeans are pinned up, probably brought them long so your taller sibling could wear it first, it’s a nice brand. Though your aunt is colour blind, she mistook the purple threads for the blue.” 

Dean shook his head. “No way, you’re wrong and wrong.” 

That got Castiel’s interest, the eyes turned on Dean like spotlights. “Impossible, everything I said is probable.” 

“First, it’s uncle Bobby,” Dean said belligerently. “And second, I totally smirked at the omegaverse romances because I have quite the collection myself. I thought the shop owner must be a hopeless romantic.” 

Castiel stared at Dean with a cold expression, Dean glare back, then suddenly he tipped his head backwards and let out a loud laugh. Dean was still laughing hysterically when Castiel came around with a second glass of water to quieten his noises. Alfie had ascended the stares to poke his head in. 

“Not for nothing Cas, that’s totally crazy good what you can do,” Dean said in a heartfelt manner. “Honestly, I was warned you’re completely weird but I didn’t expect you to be totally wonderful. I mean look at this place. You’ve got a lab in here and plants, is that a venom orchid? And are those spider vine? Now I don’t know what put you off me, I thought I was a charming applicant, but I wanna in on this apartment if you are still looking. I don’t care you can voodoo yourself into my head with your deductions or whatever. I mean this place is a ten minute stroll from campus and you, pal, are fascinating.” 

Castiel’s eyes sparkled and there was a faint flush of pleasure in his cheeks at Dean’s compliments. 

“And anyway, I’m not totally without direction,” Dean added. “I’ve got my first responder training, qualified field medic with medicinal degree and I saw there’s a hospital nearby, plus fire stations. I’ll get some sort of work, provided my leg heals up, I’m good for the rent.” 

Castiel tilted his head, there was still reluctance in his face. 

“Have you ... seen the back, the selection of ...” 

“Gotta say, I would like free browsing access if I get to live with you,” Dean said expressively. “Haven’t seen a collection like that since I was on rec leave in Japan.” 

That seemed to decide matters for Castiel. He extended his hand and Dean offered his back. 

“Castiel Sherlock Novak,” said the man with the bright blue eyes that were seemingly all seeing. 

“Dean James Winchester,” Dean smiled modestly. “Doctor Dean Winchester actually.” 

They discussed the terms of the apartment share, the portioning of rent, the duties to be performed in respect to opening and shutting the book store. Castiel owned the building but relied on hired employees to run the business downstairs preferring to work on his research. What Castiel studied doctorally speaking was an utter mystery. All Dean could fathom was Castiel was a young looking thirty something omega with incredible intellect, strength and agility. 

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” Dean asked. 

“I’ve studied some martial arts, krav magar and tai chi,” Castiel answered, unblinking. “But mostly I enjoy the analysis of the body’s pressure points and I have a particular interest in restraints.” 

The dark and fearsome focus in Castiel’s eyes made Dean’s heart flutter again, he felt unaccountably warm. 

“Is the air conditioning broken?” He asked in a gasp. 

“It is functioning perfectly,” came Castiel’s answer. “Now let me show you the bedroom.” 

Dean trailed after Castiel obediently, sweat sliding down his back in a sweet glide. Maybe sharing with an enigmatic omega roommate was not such a great idea. Just as soon as the thought came, Dean berated himself for such stereotyped alpha thinking. They were both capable professionals with life or academic experience and a shared taste in books. They could be cordial and friendly without things getting out of hand. 

Dean nodded to himself, and if he kept telling himself that Castiel Novak wasn’t the most attractive and interesting omega he had ever met, he might just believe it eventually.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was sure he was running a fever, or worse yet a rut was coming on, when he saw Castiel carry two huge boxes out of the Impala as if they weighed nothing. To help Dean with the moving of his stuff, Castiel had taken off his tan trench coat and his black suit jacket, rolling his white shirt sleeves up to expose his forearms. Dean had never before stared at elbows like a man dying of thirst in the desert and those elbows were made of life giving water served with a side of pie, rainbow ice cream, whipped cream, with sprinkles and cherry on top. For a brief second, Dean wondered if perhaps Castiel felt the attraction between them, could that have possibly been the reason for his outright rejection when they had first met? It was hard to tell, by the way Castiel leaded against the Impala and mopped the sweat from his forehead casually, then bent and stared at the tread of the car's tyres with fascination. Could Castiel ever be as interested in Dean than he was in say ash or slime? Would that interest surmount the amount of interest Dean had in the lean of Castiel's hip as the omega peered at the gutter? Dean wondered and wondered and then he saw the confident manner in which Castiel stared at him as he set down the boxes on the dining table, licked his lips, then turned, unfazed, to fill a glass bottle with cold water from the tap. He gave Dean a clam nod and drank, a drop dripped from his stubbled jawline down to his shapely neck. Dean sat down on a box he had dumped onto the ground and wiped his palms down his face. 

"I am expecting a guest in the afternoon," Castiel said, handing Dean a beer from the fridge. 

It was some sort of microbrew infused with honey, alchemically designed by Castiel personally and it tasted like magic and evoked desperate longing. Dean sighed as he downed the whole thing, this was a terrible idea, he was ready to propose marriage to his flatmate while still just moving in. Were they even friends, or mere acquaintances? What if Castiel found him annoying to share an apartment with, what if he hated Dean's tape deck, or despised Dean's cooking. Not that Dean was gonna cook in some sort of doomed attempt at seduction because he wasn't enamoured with Castiel or anything. Already. 

"Yeah sure I'll make myself scarce," Dean kept his tone chipper and sunny. "I gotta go meet Sam on campus anyway, someone has to give the law librarians a break. This person, uh, man, woman, whatever, they staying the night?" 

Dean cleared his throat as the silence from Castiel stretched long and awkward. 

"I don't know, would it take that long?" Castiel said. "I haven't met them in person, we connected online. I'm not sure of their gender, primary or secondary." 

"Oh," Dean scratched his stubbled chin. "Um, okay, no judgement."

"I am somewhat indifferent to gender," Castiel added. "It seems to hold no special importance." 

"Yeah okay, but they're hot right?" Dean asked despite inserting his knuckle between his teeth. 

He was so curious as to what kind of alpha Castiel found attractive. Or if it was even an alpha. Dean frowned to himself, he could already smell this wonderful synthesis of their belongings in the air. The cinnamon scent of Castiel mixing in with Dean's own crisp apple tang. They were practically making apple pie with the air molecules, it was almost the sort of homely mated scent Dean had long dreamed of, at the end of crap dates or when it was fall and getting cold and the couch looked inviting and Dean wanted to invite someone to mess around on it. Definitely not to cuddle because Dean Winchester was no cuddler. Surely not. Anyway to have a visitor here in their apartment (as of like half an hour ago it because their's, combined, boxes count as possession and possession was nine tenths of the law or something nerdy like that according to Sm) might totally ruin it, but Dean knew that was the alpha in him posturing. Castiel deserved respect and he could entertain whoever he wanted and Dean was going to be a great accomodation sharing guy and make sure he's not home when the other alpha (surely it was an alpha, the jealous hiss in Dean's head insisted) is around because Castiel could do what he wanted, he was intelligent and gorgeous and weird in the nicest ways ... 

"If you are talking about temperature they should be around 98.7 degrees farenheit," Castiel shrugged, his eyes sharply regarding Dean's warmed cheeks. "Some people run a little hotter. Or, excitement, fear, sexual arousal can change the usual body temperature range. On the other hand, if we are colloquially discussing physical attractiveness, I would need to study your personal preferences first before I can comment. I personally usually only experience other people aesthetically rather than sexually. That is until I wish to command them in my bed." 

Dean might have stopped breathing as Castiel finished his drink with a cocky tilt of his head. 

"How ... how do you know you wanna do something crazy like that?" Dean stuttered, trying very hard not to sound too interested. 

"It is like anger," Castiel murmured, inclining his head slightly as he thought about it. "No, frustration, I experience an urgent need to master my opponent. I have an especially designed bed to withstand the trials of my exertion." 

Dean could only nod with his mouth open. He made up his mind there and then to try and work out how on earth Castiel selected his visitors. 

"So uh where do you meet them uh online?" Dean asked. 

"Oh I have a website," Castiel said. "A tasteful one, very discrete and of course I receive copious amounts of word of mouth referrals." 

Dean had never heard 'word of mouth' sound so tantalisingly dirty as a phrase. 

"You got a lotta friends like that?" Dean berated himself even as he asked the question. Cas had used the word 'copious'. Copious was an adjective for excess right, like corpulent, opulent, overflowing, sumptuous ... Dean's thoughts raced, his head flipped around like the page of a thesaurus, that was so sexy: thesaurus. 

"Friends?" Castiel shook his head. "I don't think of them as friends. More like clients, they come to me with a need that no one else can meet and I alleviate their concerns for them." 

Dean blinked rapidly. "Uh, what are we talking about here, Cas cause I'm starting to think ..." 

"I think I will have a group today, three visitors, one of them I know well enough, a regular," Castiel said. "Him and his partner have come to me for years, although I think this partner is newish." 

Dean was uttering in a bewildered manner. "Three of them? At the same time?" 

Castiel nodded enthusiastically. "I simply cannot wait to see them. The third one will be a surprise. I have been looking forward to this meeting all day and half of last night truth be told. I have had so little diversion of interest of late." 

Dean sighed, washed out his beer bottle under the tap, tipped the water into some of Castiel's overgrown pot plants and then placed the glass bottle carefully into the crate under the sink for reuse. Dean was being a good friend and not a lovesick alpha and he was going to be neat and tidy and give Castiel zero reason to regret his choice of cohabitant. Dean was here to move and ogle and definitely not do something as despicable as 'yearn'. Totally out of the question. Determined, Dean moved his boxes into his room and set up his tape deck on the shelf in the kitchen since Castiel had encouraged him to play his music wherever he liked and Dean enjoyed cooking to the sound of his favourite bands on analog tapes. After that there was nothing else to do but watch Castiel pace the apartment in excitement. Fiddling with the mason jar beehive on the fire escape balcony and occasionally checking his phone. 

"Oh shoot," Dean said when he heard the footsteps on the metal spiral stairs. "Funny thing, turns out Sam's got a dental appointment, our pizza dinner's off."

Dean was a big fat liar and the law librarians of Stanford University were not going to get a Friday night respite after all. Dean told himself he was only going to stay a couple of minutes, make sure the visitors passed the sniff test, not too aggressive, then Castiel was welcome to alpha as an omega them however he wanted and Dean was gonna get take out and eat it in slow misery some place that wasn't here. 

"That's okay," Castiel sat down in his blue velvet armchair, crossing his legs demurely and running hands through his hair. The whole thing was a lovely mess of dark curls and feathery strands, Castiel clasped his tapered fingers together. He looked like a portrait of some leisurely gentleman of the classical age. A Dorian Grey or a pensively alert Alexander The Great. Someone beautiful and intriguing and ready to conquer hearts and minds. Dean coughed, running his eyes around the apartment, it was already cozy due to Dean's afternoon of work tidying and sorting Castiel's great piles of detritus of intellect. 

"You can join us. Be nice to get fresh eyes on things." Castiel said slowly, more hesitatingly than was usual for him. 

Dean's ears boomed with the buzzing of bees and his mouth filled with honey, his sudden attack of excitement from Cas' invitation was difficult to hide. Dean tried to play it cool with a small nod, digging his fingers into the arms of his own winged chair in crimson. He crossed his legs and bit his lips, trying to breath slowly as he imagined Castiel's laser like focus upon him, then the annoying image of three other people disrupted the fantasy and Dean grimaced. Castiel gave Dean a small encouraging smile and the booming noise sounded in Dean's ears again and Dean was back from envy to excitement in an instant. They waited, posing in their respective armchairs, Castiel looked wise and perceptive, Dean tried for calm and collected. Castiel was giving Dean a glance every now and then, throwing Dean right into flustered and flushed territory again. Just as Dean thought he might pass out from the flushs of heat through his legs, he saw a tall burley man charge in through the doorway. He threw his arms around Castiel and grabbed him by the neck. Dean shot to his feet but when he saw Castiel's hands clasp the man's broad back he realised he was being bear hugged as opposed to attacked. After a minute, Castiel nodded graciously and sat down again. The second man was even taller than the first, with a stunningly symmetrical face, a square jaw and long lashed eyes. He was dark haired but fair eyed and there was something about him that reminded Dean of warm tropical isles and blazing sunshine. He was incredibly handsome and looked around the apartment with curious eyes. Both of them were in leather jackets, with tidy haircuts and aviator sunglasses. Castiel introduced them as Benny Lafitte and Gadreel Gardener. Behind them a sweet faced youth emerged. The third man was much younger and wide eyed, looking around Castiel's laboratory come living room with awe. 

"Hey, he looks like a college kid," Dean said pointing to the young man. "How old are you?" 

"Hi, my name is Jack," came the innocently enthusiastic response. "I am twenty-two years of age."

"Dude's only just legal," Dean shook his head. "Come on Cas, you can't let these two at him, alpha or no." 

All three men were alphas and the first two smelled, well not aggressive, more bossy. Dean was almost ready to put his feet down, as clever and strong as Castiel was, some sort of orgy with these people was kind of wild and probably would mess up the apartment somewhat. And Dean had worked so hard on making it presentable. There was a part of Dean which whispered in a corner that if Castiel was looking to be knotted, he didn't need three guys to get the job done, he had Dean. Though that was a very small voice and one which Dean was too embarrassed to give credence to. Last thing Cas needed was a jealous alpha roommate and Dean just wasn't gonna be that guy. 

"Jack has to stay," Castiel said, looking at the young alpha with interest. "He's the most important person here. The detectives are here as escorts." 

Dean climbed out of his mystified misconceptions, he was now at the apex of understanding. The two impressive alphas were police officers and Jack must have needed Castiel's help with some sort of case. Dean breathed out a sigh of relief, though now he was feeling mortified about where his thoughts had led him to assume. 

"What did you think this consultation was?" Castiel fixed Dean was a blue eyed stare. 

Dean cursed under his breath and shot up from his chair. He walked to the open plan kitchen and began throwing together a cheese and charcuterie board. There were figs in the fruit bowl and Dean sliced them open with fierce concentration. 

Jack's story was a strange one. He was in search of his father, he said, a man his mother slept with when she was in college. She had not known his name and only said that he lived in the area. Jack lost his mother and was brought up by his grand parents. He had chosen to study at the same college that his mother attended with the hope of bumping into his father. 

"I've been receiving this in the mail, no return address, when I got to Stanford last week there was one waiting in my dorm." 

The package was an ordinary looking brown paper box, when it was opened it was full of plastic packing beads. In amidst them was a white feather. A gleaming carved artefact embedded with jewels. 

"This is the sixth one I have received," Jack said quietly. "They started arriving when I turned sixteen. Once a year on my birthday." 

"It came with a note which is currently being forensically analysed," Benny interjected. "It says ..." 

"He's the son of Lucifer and must claim his rightful place as heir?" Castiel asked. 

Gadreel's jaw dropped and Dean started laughing softly. It was nice not be the one bamboozled for once. 

"The stones are all cursed jewels of well known provenance. There are six embedded on this feather and six feathers in total. Judging by the shape and design, I imagine six of these can join together to make a horn shaped crown. I'm afraid it is very simple, it's a cult thing. I don't do cult things. Oh well, it was nice of you to visit." 

Benny stood up quickly. "Real shame, maybe next time." 

Castiel gave him a cordial nod. Jack looked at Castiel appealingly. "Come on, please, I need to find him." 

"You do not!" Castiel said sharply. "And should misfortune be that you do, pray that you are found wanting." 

Gadreel looked annoyed but Benny tugged on his arm and pulled him and Jack towards the door. 

Jack shrugged him off and stepped forward. He was almost the same height as Castiel and his eyes blazed with a similar stubbornness. 

"They told me you were the best detective they'd ever met. That you love a challenge. I don't think you are as good as they say you are." 

"Don't goad me, Jack," Castiel said, his face dangerously blank. 

"Come on now, he asked you to leave," Dean stepped forward, his hands raised placatingly. "I uh know what its like to lose my parents, but trust me you can't let it eat you up." 

Jack took one look at Dean's sympathetic face and stepped back. The tension eased in the room while the three men descended the metal stair, a cacophony of stomping steps hailing their departure. 

"I gotta say Cas," Dean said off handedly. "If I was Jack, at his age, with his history, I'd want your help too." 

Castiel looked at Dean startled. 

"Kinda wish someone helped me," Dean said. "After my mom died in a house fire, my dad went a bit off the rails looking into conspiracies and theories trying to find her killer. He got drinking, got paranoid, started believing in the supernatural. Died behind the wheel chasing down imaginary monsters." 

"Some monsters are real and should not be chased," Castiel said quietly, his eyes cold as they met Dean's. "Or they are right here, inside." 

Dean didn't look away even though a shudder ran up his spine. 

"I wanna see yours," Dean said. 

Castiel dropped his head and stared at the floor for a few long minutes deep in thought. When he looked up he smiled crookedly, the corners of his eyes wrinkling fetchingly. 

"They are still downstairs in the bookshop, go stick your head out and tell them to come back up," Castiel said. 

Dean ran down the stairs two steps at a time, jumping the last section. He landed gracefully in front of the three men with sombre expressions, Benny smiled hopefully. "Did he change his mind?" 

"Ask him yourself," Dean grinned at the shadow standing at the top of the spiral. 

Castiel leaned over the railing, his eyes bright. 

"Are you a religious person?" He asked Jack who shook his head.

Castiel looked towards the ceiling. "I used to be, very religious."

That afternoon Dean heard a completely unbelievable story about Castiel.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean peered at Castiel through the flickering candlelight, trying to ignore the mouthwatering basket of garlic bread placed before him by the waiter. The restaurant Castiel had booked was a tiny boutique place with crowded dining rooms and a long queue at the door. They had been shown in through the back, the chef seizing Castiel by the shoulders and kissing him on both cheeks. 

“I helped track down some stolen recipes,” Castiel said blithely. “Turns out it was the food safety inspector.” 

They were given a table that had been haphazardly set up in a quiet secluded corner that had large windows facing the street. The accomodating restaurant owner came over and ogled Dean as she lit the tea light candles with a flourish. Dean opened his mouth to order but Pamela stuck out her index finger and shushed him. 

“I can read by an customer’s scent exactly what they desire to eat,” her eyes flickered to Castiel who was looking intently out the window. “You’re getting all the off the menu treats cutie, you’re the first alpha Castiel has ever brought around.” 

Dean blushed hotly. “It’s not a date. I’m his roommate.” 

Pamela blinked her dark starry eyes at him and then smiled. “Call me psychic but I don’t think that’ll last long. So porcini mushroom risotto and a beef ragu for you gentlemen. Salad of bitter wild herbs and the Tiramasu.” 

The mention of the dessert got Castiel’s attention at last. “Dean might enjoy the cannoli, with coffee.” 

“Of course,” Pamela twinkled at Castiel. 

“I need him to have lots of energy for what is to come,” Castiel said. 

“Gotchya,” she winked and walked enticingly away towards the kitchen, the waiter rushing forward to pour wine into their glasses. 

Then like magic the staff were gone, staying away except for a few swift deliveries of deliciously aromatic food. The meal was rustic and flavourful, the wine deep and complex. Castiel seemed somewhat distracted during the meal, eating mechanically and not touching any of the alcohol. Dean would have thought he was a low mood except for the gleam in his eyes glittering in the glow of the street light. 

“So uh I get that you grew up in a sect but um you turned out okay right?” Dean said, a little tentative to revisit the story Castiel had told to him, Jack and the detectives that afternoon. 

“Did I?” Castiel asked rhetorically. “And how might you deduce that Dean? You’ve known me for less than a week. Though I have admit I expected you to be scared off enough to move out by now.”

“Scared?” Dean exclaimed. “No way.” 

“I talk to the bees in the dark of night,” Castiel said with a faint hint of a grin. “The refrigerator is full of lab samples. My family ran a sect and believe in real life angels.”

Dean crossed his arms. “Yeah but you get free food and people like you because you help them in your blunt as a brick to the face sort of way. And you’re so smart and so b ...” 

The word beautiful had been half way out of Dean’s mouth but he shoved it back with a fluffy chunk of garlic bread. 

“‘Smart’ and ‘brilliant’ together form a tautology, the use of both terms as adjectives are redundant,” Castiel inclined his head. “Unless of course you were about to use the questionable colloquial slang ‘bitchy’.”

Dean threw his hands up. “Nah, I wouldn’t say that about you Cas and you know it. Don’t wanna get all warm and fuzzy on you but I feel like, like I know you better now that I know your tragic backstory. I mean its not really tragic, kinda badass really. Oh I should shut up.” 

Castiel looked at Dean with that examining gaze and whatever flaw in Dean’s logic he had wanted to capture alluded him. Castiel’s tale had begun in the Nevada desert, where he was found wandering on his own as a child. There was no indication of who left him there, or how he had survived on his own, a child of ten in the wilderness. The convoy of range rovers belonging to the Miltons stopped to find him, sunburnt and exhausted, sheltering beneath a rock boulder. The young man who found Castiel was a Gabriel Milton, second oldest of the clan and something of a black sheep in the family. Castiel was brought before Naomi Milton, the leader in regency of the family after some upheaval betook the group. Their founder had been a man called Chuck Shurley who had disappeared about a year before the great migration the clan was undertaking. Their new prophet was a man called Marv with sly eyes and a sharp tongue. At first Naomi was annoyed at Gabriel’s insistence that they take Castiel in, but two things saved the young foundling. First, it was a Thursday, the day of the angel Cassiel, the tearful wanderer. Gabriel made a strong case for Castiel’s sudden appearance, deprived and desperate in the desert as some sort of divine sign and message from heaven, however cynically. Second, Naomi had noticed Castiel’s eyes. The entire Milton clan were caucasian, fair of skin and dark of hair, except for Gabriel who was a sort of sandy blond and another brother Nicolas whose hair was even fairer. There was a belief, that the clan was descendant from angels, and blue eyes and raven locks were considered an angelic trait. Castiel had explained all this with painful sardonic clarity to Dean and his guests, remarking that eugenics and feeling chosen were somewhat of a commonality amongst various groups that have formed in human society. In any case, Castiel was promptly gifted with his angelic first name and taken in. That very afternoon, Marv received indications from whatever higher power he was following that they had arrived in their own predestined paradise. A valley with arable lands that had been abandoned due to the drying up of the local wells. That very night it rained and it didn’t stop raining for three weeks, just enough time for Naomi to purchase the lands outright. She was an industrious woman and quickly allotted farms and occupancy to various family members. A town grew rapidly around the Milton holdings and as if by divine intervention, everything the family touched turned to gold. They were wealthy by the end of the year and affluent beyond imagining by the end of the decade, investing their wealth in stocks and innovations that always somehow became the next big thing. 

“Though it wasn’t really investments,” Castiel had said softly from the depths of his living room armchair, rubbing his index finger repeatedly over the patch of scratched velvet beneath his palm.

The family elected a ‘prince’ from all eligible male relatives each decade. He alone was indoctrinated in the true family business. Organised crime and global exploitation of people. They were of angel stock, it was held to be true, and humans were merely chattel. That was how they made a paradise in a desert, turned impoverishment to plenty, maintained the facade of winemakers and export/importers and the general appearance of a respectable if conservative family. 

“Pinot for your thoughts, Dean,” Castiel raised his glass and took a tiny measured sip. 

Dean was suddenly cast back into the lovely Italian restaurant and the comfort of Castiel’s company. His mind had raced off thinking about the story Castiel had shared of the religious Miltons who had been secretly a criminal organisation. 

“What I don’t understand about your story is how the feathers, the crown and Jack comes into it.” 

Castiel looked out at the shadowy streets. “Jack is male and an alpha, his hair colour is a little on the light side but his eyes are of the desired shade. The prince, the one they use as leader, is elected.” 

Dean blinked rapidly. 

“As the Milton family grew there were disputes, struggles for power, some leaders were ousted while others stepped in. There were changes to the rules that were later revised as aberrations. In the end, there was one ‘prince’ who came to power that managed to innovate a system for the passing on of power. The six main branches of the family were each given a feather and together they make a crown. Primitive election really.” 

“That’s ... pretty clever,” Dean said with admiration. “I mean, for a bad guy.” 

“The man who came up with that idea is the only man in this life that I fear,” Castiel said cryptically. “But I don’t really want to talk about him. The problem is there’s only one feather left and I know exactly when and where it will show up.” 

Dean shuddered at the sudden iron in Castiel’s voice. He looked around the dimly lit corner of the restaurant as if the very monster was lurking in the shadows of the brick walls. 

“I observed from Jack’s hands that he is a medical student and the library receipt he dropped shows he attends Stanford University just as your brother Sam does. There was an examination this evening which was compulsory. It finished some 12 minutes ago and judging by the scuff marks on Jack’s jeans, he rides a bicycle which means he will be riding past ... well ... right now.” 

Dean looked out the window just as a familiar figure swung around the corner and rode on. When he looked back Castiel was on his feet, his trench coat pulled on and grinning. 

“Would like to accompany me?” He offered his hand to Dean. 

Dean thrust his hand into Castiel’s and was dragged out of the restaurant running at speed with the amateur detective. 

“Why ... are we holding hands?” Dean gasped, the wind in his face, his legs pumping. 

“There are many back streets through the campus, I don’t want to lose you,” Castiel said easily. 

Though he was sprinting, the omega was barely breaking into a sweat while Dean struggled and cursed himself for the indulgently heavy meal he had ingested. 

“Not the kinda date I’m used to,” Dean said. 

Castiel paused at the corner of a tree lined street. “This is a stake out.” 

“There was pasta and wine, I’m calling it a date,” Dean insisted with a crooked grin, hoping for a charming vibe rather than a desperate one. 

For once, Castiel seemed at a loss for words. He ducked his head down and pulled Dean into an alley. It was dark and dingy, the bricks were cold and damp when Castiel pushed Dean’s back into the wall. Dean felt the flare of heat all down his front where Castiel was pressed against him, his hand on Dean’s mouth. Dean waited breathlessly for the hand to slide down his throat, his nostrils picking up the rich perfume of Castiel’s wrist. He shivered when the hand was removed and tilted his head up for a kiss. Castiel turned his face away and stared at the chain link fence at the end of the alley. Jack was walking in, pushing the bike along, his gemstone like eyes peering around. In the distance, a soft mewl issued from behind a dumpster. 

“Kitty?” Jack whispered, looking around for the origin of the meowing. “Hey, come out, I heard you from a couple of blocks back. You in trouble little one?” 

There was a soft chirrup. 

“I’m almost a doctor you know, just did my exams, which makes me sort of vaguely a vet,” Jack said. “I could help you.” 

“I know you can.” 

The voice was cold and calculating and Dean was startled to see a man step out from behind the trash pile, his face shadowed in the moonlight. 

“Gotta say, I don’t know why Moriarty ever introduced the stupid feather system,” said the man. 

Dean felt rather than saw the tremble that momentarily distorted Castiel’s face at the mention of that name, but they both remained silent. 

“Hey, I know you,” Jack said. “From campus, you’re Nick, the lab guy. You’ve been helping me with my lab work.” 

“Yeah, I know son. Nicholas Milton is my full name. I’ve been keeping an eye on you.” 

“Why?” 

“Want to see if you turned out more like your mom or me. Jack, I’m your father, blah blah, but reunions aside, I just need a few family heirlooms from you. The feathers please.” 

Jack shook his head. “They are with the police.” 

“You called the cops?” Nick gave a dramatic sigh, the light glinting off the whites of his eyes as he rolled them gave a whiteish cast. “Guess you are more like your mom. She found out about my family business and I had to get rid of her. Those electronic cars can be such a death a trap.” 

Jack gritted his teeth while Dean stirred under Castiel’s hands, agitating to help the young man. 

“Oh, I see,” Jack said coldly. “In that case, you can have those feathers over my dead body.” 

“If I must,” Nick replied even as he darted forward, throwing a punch to Jack’s temple. 

Jack tried to sidestep the attack but Nick tripped him and elbowed him hard in the solar-plex. “Gotta thank that little usurper who tried to take my crown, splitting it into six bits and getting each family branch to send their vote to their intended candidate really makes it much easier to collect them all. Especially when all the feathers went to a weakling such as yourself.” 

Jack whimpered as he staggered back up. 

“Or maybe I should thank Michael for changing the rules of ascension to exclude all but unmated alphas, that got rid of wicked little Jimmy didn’t it. And now that Michael has failed to secure a compatible omega mate of sufficient ranking within our circles, he himself is out of the running. Which leaves me, male, alpha, with a living male alpha heir. Well, living for now, if you show some smarts.” 

Castiel was listening intently to all that Nick was saying, his eyes glimmering with surprise. 

“Dean, I need you to subdue Nick,” he whispered in Deans ear. “There’s a spot on the collarbone, he has a tattoo of the morning star on his chest, hit the centre of it with your knee, hard and he’ll black out. It’s a pressure point passed down by Shaolin monks.” 

“I’m no monk Cas,” Dean stuttered but his words were lost when Castiel pressed his mouth to Dean’s. 

“I’m sorry, I need you to be full alpha for this,” Castiel gasped quickly, inserting his tongue into Dean’s mouth. 

The taste was mind blowing, how can saliva be glossy and sweet like honey, Dean wondered vacantly even as the blood rushed through his veins and he heard the faint growl grow louder and realised it was coming from his own heaving chest. 

“I’m near my heat,” Castiel said, his lips dewy and bitten and tempting. “That should be enough.” 

Dean would have argued to the contrary but he was already shoved into the middle of the alley and Nick had stopped kicking Jack on the ground to lift his ruby eyes to growl back at Dean. Dean felt the malice and anger of the red eyed challenge from another alpha overwhelm his senses, in the haze of violence he did manage to hit the spot that Castiel had told him about. Nick dropped soundlessly and Castiel stepped forward and tied Nick’s hands behind his back with cable ties. His movements were dazzlingly efficient and Dean swallowed down his arousal so he could pull out his phone and call the police. 

By the time they helped Jack out of the alley, a police car had pulled up and two uniformed officers jumped out. It was Benny and Gadreel in their official splendour, the latter was visibly excited to see Nick on the ground. 

“He’s wanted by Interpol, this is a magnificent catch,” he praised Castiel who shrugged and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. 

Dean blushed at the bruised state of Castiel’s mouth. 

“Good night for all of us huh?” Benny winked at Dean. 

Dean ducked his head and said nothing. As the police took away Nick and Jack was safely sent for a check up at the local hospital, Dean and Castiel began their walk home towards the apartment. 

The air smelled like gardenias and salt, Castiel was vanilla and musk in his own right. He looked at Dean with ocean eyes and said in a sweet lilt “My evenings have a habit of ending like this.”

Dean shook his head and stomped his foot, coming to a sudden stop. “No, nah, I can’t do it Cas.” 

Castiel looked at Dean, his face pallid in the moonlight, his eyes dark and bright. 

“I can’t live with you, your life is crazy, mafia and cults and running through the streets,” Dean pointed towards his leg. “I’ve got an injury you know and my life’s been chaotic enough. This is me settling down into the suburbs, watching my baby brother get his lawyering on, not chasing after killers in the night.” 

“You hate this,” Castiel said blankly. 

“Damned right,” Dean gasped, his words coming rapid fire. “I didn’t retire from the marines for all this danger and craziness. I was mad to think I could live with an omega like you!”

“So my designation is a problem?” Castiel asked cooly. “Or is it my occupation as a criminologist?”

“It’s not ... it’s ... just problematic okay! You kiss alphas to put them in rut, so they can go duel it out with psycho alphas!” Dean gestured frantically with his hands. “You’re near your fucking heat, you say, while you suck my soul out of my mouth!” 

“I only kissed one alpha,” Castiel said, dead eyed. “It was you.”

“I think my heart’s gonna explode,” Dean showed Castiel his shaking hands, slumping to crouch on the floor. “My leg’s given out.” 

“Dean,” Castiel said with unexpected softness. “It doesn’t take me to observe the obvious signs of distress upon your person and work out what’s going on here.” 

Dean looked up at Castiel with a helpless flush on his face. 

“Your pupils are dilated, your voice is quickened, your eyes are golden and though you are trying very hard to hide it it is plainly obvious that you are in a hyper stimulated state of arousal and excitement.” 

Castiel ran his bewitching eyes from Dean’s head to his toes. 

“It isn’t some wound that ails you, it is boredom,” Castiel offered his hand palm up to Dean. “And it isn’t fear that you feel now, it is wild thrill. You are utterly enchanted by danger.” 

Dean stared into Castiel’s unfathomable eyes, sighed and took his hand. 

The most dangerous thing in Dean’s hitherto dreary life is Castiel Novak.


	4. The Fall of Moriarty

About a month into their apartment sharing arrangement, or as Castiel would say precisely 19.7 days later, Dean realised why he had been rejected at first sight by the detective. Or at first sniff rather. The whole of the dwelling was effused with a honey scent which cloyed to the bookstore like an enchanting miasma. As for the condo, it was barely habitable, Dean could not walk around without a long button down and perhaps holding some inconvenient prop or another like an awkward newly presenting alpha. He tried to keep it together by applying suppressants and going out as much as possible, but one morning when he found himself growling at Castiel at the end of a living room viola performance by the omega, Dean had not option but to try and get laid. 

Guiltily, Dean browsed for dating apps on his phone as Castiel packed away with instrument with a grimace and sunk into his armchair with his laptop for some light reading on poisonous amphibians. Making sure that his phone was on silent, Dean downloaded Queen Bee, a software marketed towards omegas seeking alphas. Though Dean was desperate for a hookup, he didn't want to string anyone along. He was too busy for a relationship, what with his new found interest in crime and adventure with Dr Castiel Novak. So Dean filtered out the omegas looking for true mates or relationships and went for scent profiles instead. Most of the omegas listed the notes in their heat scents as a way of advertising compatibility. It was about as accurate as matching on the basis of a star sign but Dean was clutching his armrest with urgency. He found himself going for the sweet smelling profiles, favouring honey and praline notes. Once he narrowed down the scent somewhat, Dean found himself wiping left on most of the female omegas and frowning at every male that came across his screen. None of them looked right. He paused for a second on a few dark haired men but the eyes always failed to be as electrifying as the ones occasionally peeking over the edge of the laptop to glance at Dean. After about half an hour and just as Dean was about to give up, a honey pot popped up on his screen. The app informed Dean that someone had given his profile a royal crown. Some kitchy symbole that an omega had found him very attractive. Which was odd, since Dean's profile, hastily put together, showed only his mouth and jawline and had some vague description of his rut scent (cinnamon, green apples, pine - which made Dean sound like a Bath & Body Works Candle). The omega didn't have any full face pictures either, just one close up of an eye, but that was enough to make Dean freeze and stare. Hesitatingly, Dean glanced up, Castiel had wandered over to the sink for a glass of water and was padding away towards his bedroom. What a great idea, thought Dean, and he hurried to his own room, ignoring the raised eyebrow Castiel shot at him as they both pushed open their bedroom doors side by side at the same time. 

As soon as Dean swiped right he was informed that a pairing had been made between him and this guy called James. James was confident and brief in his communications. He asked Dean what he liked in the bedroom and very quickly dug out Dean's special interest in feminine underwear and restraints, seeming all the more interested that Dean (unlike most alphas) wanted both applied to him. 

Talking to James was a great distraction from Castiel's coming heat. From the scent Dean could tell it was still a couple of days off but already Dean was out of his mind with desire. When it all got too much, Dean made some lame excuse or another, interrupting dinner/work out/research/forensic experiments so that he could have some time alone. Strangely, James was always available when Dean needed him. He sent Dean wicked and salacious texts that allowed Dean to stick his hand down his pants and work for some brief relief. There were photos too, of tied up muscled arms and gagged clenched jaws and scratched thighs and silky materials tugged between fingers and teeth. Every image seemed carefully curated to send Dean's heart racing. By the end of a few days of messaging back and forth Dean was all but begging to meet James. 

Yet James proved elusive and when he finally sent Dean the address of a local bar, Dean ended up waiting for two hours alone (turning down an offer from an alpha and a pair of omegas) before slinking home. He didn't just want any omega, he wanted James. Or rather, the thrill of James, that blue eyed stare pixelated when enlarged, making Dean's thighs tremble just at the thought of that dead eyed glare. It was like the looks Castiel gave him, with growing frequency, as his heat drew imminent. 

Upon his return from the bar, with James ghosting him, Dean was too despondent at first to notice something was wrong. Though he knew instinctively something bad had happened as soon as he opened the book shop doors. Alfie, the bookstore attendant who usually did the openings had taken the day off to prepare for an examination (which meant that Dean and Castiel were alone together, now that Dean's date hadn't shown). The books were strewn all over the floor and there was a distinct fragrance in the air. His alpha instincts kicking in, Dean ran up the metal stair case and with a wild beating heart sought for his omega. Sure, Castiel Novak was his roommate and investigatory partner, a sheer genius and an incredible pastry chef (when he put his mind to cooking up desserts as opposed to chemical experiments), right now Dean's nose was screaming at him to find 'his omega' as opposed to his friend. The soft honey scent of Castiel still lingered in the air, but Dean could scent another explosion of perfume overlaying Castiel's inviting scent. It was a tobacco and burn caramel scent, osmanthus floral, intoxicating devilwood, cloying and bitter, it cut sharply through Dean's senses and made the hair on the back of his neck standup. 

When Dean kicked open the door of Castiel's bedroom, his gave a loud growl. Castiel's room was an utter mess, the sheets rumpled and torn. The air was heavy with the scent of heat and Dean felt a sickening sense of panic as he tried to follow the heady trail. There, over the bed, scrawled on the wall was the word 'Moriarty' in sinister capital letters. Dean let out a whine of distress and charged out the door. He was already so familiar with Castiel's scent that it wasn't difficult to follow the trail out onto the roof. Here everything looked thankfully in order. The garden was in full bloom with exotic flowers and herbs that Castiel gathered for his distillations and experiments, the mason jar bee hive abuzz with activity despite the overcast sky. Dean could see a male silhouette outlined against the gloomy clouds, his arms trussed up and tied up in a wide wing like spread between an aerial and a rose trellis, like an angel caught in a spider's web. 

"Cas," Dean charged forward and pulled the blindfold from the omega's face. Castiel writhed under Dean's hands, his jaw clenching around the gag between his lips. "Hey I gotchaya. You're all right Cas, I'm gonna get you down." 

Castiel shook and squirmed and whimpered and Dean could smell the heat scent pouring off him and it was enough to tempt any alpha, but Dean wasn't just any alpha. Castiel wasn't just any omega. And designations were all bullshit anyway in Dean's opinion, what he wanted was to protect, not to preserve a claim or mark out a territory. He needed to help his friend. 

The first thing Castiel said when the gag came off soggy and chewed in Dean's hand was a garbled word. Dean leaned down and brushed his fingers through Castiel's damp hair and cooed softly to ask. "What did you say buddy?" 

Castiel gritted his teeth and gave a loud moan before sighing out "Moriarty, he's here." 

"No, he's gone," Dean reassured Castiel. "Tore the place up and his scent is everywhere but he's definitely not here." 

Castiel just looked at Dean and sighed. 

"I wanna get you inside," Dean said. "Come on, I'll help you down the stairs." 

"I can't, I need to stay out in the fresh air, I can smell him," Castiel whimpered. "Please Dean." 

"Alright but I'm not leaving you like this," Dean laid Castiel down on the sun lounge that Castiel had set up to watch the bees. 

He rushed down into their apartment and returned shortly after with a few bottles of water and food. 

"It's just bread and cheese and some honey," Dean murmured, pleased when Castiel drained a whole bottle in one long swig. "And we are just gonna sit here, till you're ready to go back inside." 

Castiel devoured the food Dean offered and when he was done wolfing it all down, he flopped back into the lounger with a relieved exhale. 

"He'll be back when the night falls," Castiel said with a tremor in his voice that Dean had never heard before. "I'm sorry Dean, I tried to keep him away as long as I could, but there have been ... lapses on my part."

"Then I'll be ready for him," Dean lowered his head, his muscles tensing. 

"It's, it's not like that Dean," Castiel covered his eyes. "You can't stop Moriarty, he's my shadow, my curse. He's been with me all my life." 

Dean flashed back to a conversation he had overheard regarding said Moriarty. Some shadowy nemsis, formerly the head of Castiel's criminal family. Incredibly clever, anti-social and ruthless. Dean locked his jaw, he wasn't scared of Moriarty and he was gonna convince Castiel that the boogeyman won't get past Dean. 

"Well, yeah, you didn't have me around before, whatever it takes, I just don't wanna see you scared." 

That made Castiel sit up, with a groan he folded his hands between his knees. "Dean, you don't understand. He's a nasty, malicious man, with a mind as sharp as my own but twisted in the other direction, towards crime and misdeeds and his appetites are insatiable." 

Dean shivered despite the warm sun on his back at the serious gleam of fear in Castiel's eyes. 

"He would destroy me if given half a chance and he is back with a vengeance," Castiel grunted. "He will be here when it is dark, at the height of my heat." 

"Then we stay here, we have full vantage and he won't surprise us," Dean said steadfast. 

Castiel bowed his head. "I think you will be surprised. When he is here, please remember, that I am your first and foremost your friend."

"Best friends forever right," Dean allowed himself to pat Castiel's shoulder, his palm tingled at the contact and was hastily drawn back. "You remember when there are dishes in the sink." 

Castiel snorted disarmed and fell into an uneasy slumber on the sun lounge. Dean was torn with the desire to grab a handful of toys and leave them at Castiel's feet in tribute and let the omega ease his own heat versus the stronger need to stay guard and protect. He let the latter consume him, sitting alert as the sun set, gilding Castiel's sweat dampened face in golden light. Then it was dark and no one came onto the room and Dean let the hours creep past, taking Castiels hand in his when the omega fussed in his restless slumber. 

The hand in Dean's cooled as the evening closed in and Dean shrugged off his leather jacket to drape over Castiel's sweat soaked coat. The mingling of their scents created something magical in the air and Dean took a long deep drag of evening mist with fathomless greed. Castiel's fingers clenched Dean's wrist. 

"Hello Dean," he said sitting up, his face lean and cold in the moonlight. "I tried to come meet you but he wouldn't let me." 

Dean frowned, a shiver racing down his spine. 

"Castiel James Novak," the words were spoken slowly and blade sharp from a familiar mouth. "Do you want to call me Jimmy or Cas?" 

Dean stood up, taking a startled step back, the nails dug into his skin like teeth. 

"What I want you to call me is Moriarty," Castiel said. "The mortal chaos, the ghost in the machine, the deviant in the omega." 

"Cas," Dean opened his mouth. 

"He wants this, he's a part of me." 

Dean looked into starved blue eyes and wavered. 

"He's ... no, you are my friend." 

"We can be friends with bondage gear," Castiel said, or was that Moriarty? "Castiel would have had himself trussed up on the roof all night long, till his heat passed, but I know how to make him happy. An alpha to play with. Or rather, the one alpha he truly desires." 

"Let me, uh, let me talk to him," Dean said, skeptical. 

Moriarty leered and then closed his eyes, when opened again, Dean could see Castiel's weary expression. Before Castiel could speak, Dean leapt into action. The handcuffs were in his back pocket, he had put them there when he had freed Castiel from the restraints, thinking they would be useful if Moriarty showed up and they managed to subdue him. Now they clicked closed around Castiel's right hand and Dean's left. 

"Dean, that's a dumb move," Castiel said, his mouth already hardening into that maniacal grin that Moriarty had. Dean found the conflicted expression unspeakably attractive. "He's in charge." 

"That's fine," Dean said, pulling Castiel towards him. Or Moriarty, or James, or whatever he wanted to be called. "Way I see it, Moriarty is just you out of control, and I like you like that too." 

Castiel blinked at Dean in utter confusion. "I'm a sex maniac and crime lord during my heats, a socially inept workaholic detective every other day of the month, and you like me?" 

"I adore you," Dean said. "Now stop being cute with your face and do your worst. I'll call you whatever name you want, just make sure you show no mercy." 

"I'm not known for mercy," the smile that Dean got back was razor sharp but the words were softly whispered into his ear, the nip on his earlobe almost tender just before his arms were twisted behind his back. 

Dean closed his eyes and let darkness intoxicate him. 

* * * 

He woke on the sun lounge, the midday sun shaded from his face, there were robe burns all over him and his knees were shot for a few days. Castiel stood over him, a cool glass proffered. Dean sipped the honeyed water while inhaling the softened scent wafting from Castiel. The omega smelled relaxed. 

"I do what I can to offset the damage he did," Castiel said. "Moriarty was my name when I was head of the Miltons' operations." 

"You don't go hurting people?" Dean asked. 

"What's so clever about that?" Castiel asked in return. "It's only fun when its clever for Moriarty. The only people he is allowed to control, that I allow him to control, are those I bring to my bed. Moriarty is very persuasive, they are more than willing." 

"So the messages sent to me on my phone," Dean cleared his throat. "They are all from him?" 

It was rare to see Castiel looking coy but he was certainly blushing. 

"I didn't let him have full control, I forced him to stay hidden," Castiel's tone went dark and deep, straight to Dean's insides. "I was jealous of him having communications with you. So no, they are not all Moriarty." 

"Good," Dean said decisively. "Cause as much fun as he is, I remember what you said." 

Castiel gave Dean a questioning look. 

"You are my friend." Dean cupped Castiel's cheek in his palm. "We're not just coworkers. Or partners. Or alpha and omega. We are friends who understand each other, every nook and every cranny. The good stuff and the secrets." 

When Castiel surged forward and kissed Dean, he licked every secret of Dean's from his mouth, ate and digested them until the sun was setting again. 

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how long it took to finish this fic. 
> 
> With many many thanks to Moonweaver30 sorry it took so long and thank you for the chance to enjoy the world of this fic :)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry I am running behind on my fics. Currently trying to finish: ficfacers 1 and 2, DCBB and Tentacles. Wish me luck.


End file.
